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Mary's Corner: An unforgettable white-knuckle ride

Seeing a chuckwagon collision at the Calgary Stampede one night last week on the television news brought back a flood of memories of my one - and only - experience of a chuckwagon race. Emphasis on only.
I am not exaggerrating when I say it was one of the scariest experiences of my life.
"There's really nothing to it ... it will be an experience you'll never forget," I can still hear them tell me.
It was September 1995 - yes, over 20 years ago, but it seems like yesterday - and organizers of the chuckwagon races at the Arran-Tara Fall Fair were scrambling to find a last minute participant for a special celebrity chuckwagon race. (Journalists, by the way, are celebrities only when there is no one else!)
Newspaper columnist Jim Merriam - who happened to be my boss at the time - was supposed to be in the race, however, business commitments prevented him from participating. Or so he told the organizers. I later learned it was also Jim who told them to call me. The things friends do for each other, eh?
In a moment of weakness, I agreed. I was told all I had to do was "go along for the ride ... and hang on!" Emphasis, as I recall, was given to the "hang on" part.
It was probably a good thing I had never before seen a chuckwagon race or I certainly would not have done it. A member of the Agricultural Society's board of directors and radio personality Dave Carr of Owen Sound had participated before and both assured me there was nothing for me to worry about. Carr did, however, ask if I knew a good chiropractor and wondered what kind of medical/life insurance I had. You would think that in itself would make me reconsider, but it didn't.
I remember how my stomach churned for most of the afternoon leading up to the race. It didn't help any that former MPP Bill Murdoch told me he was so uptight about the whole thing the year before when he participated, he wasn't sure he could do it, but quickly added "once the race gets going, there's nothing you can do about it." What words of reassurance!
My cowboy driver was a seasoned veteran, part of a circuit of drivers who make their way across North America each year, entertaining crowds with their speed, accuracy and the odd spill. He assured me he wouldn't go too fast, but suggested I borrow a pair of sunglasses from someone. "There might be a bit of dust," I can still hear him tell me. "And you'll want to hang on ... tight."
"What do I hold on to?" I distinctly remember asking - actually, I screamed that question - a split second before the starter's pistol sounded. I grabbed the only piece of wood I could see in the cloud of dust before me. It was the seat, which seconds later I learned wasn't really attached to anything!
Not too fast? A bit of dust? Nothing to worry about? We were only a few seconds into the race when I realized this was, without doubt, the biggest mistake of my life. I wondered if, in fact, I would even live to tell about it.
Riding alongside an experienced cowboy - who didn't know the meaning of fear - in a poorly-held-together wooden chuckwagon going faster on that dirt track than I think I have ever driven on a highway was definitely a stomach-churning, face-turning-green, once-in-a-lifetime experience.
Determined to not let any horse, wagon or even spaceship speed past us, my driver yelled and cursed and slapped his horse throughout what seemed like a never-ending race ... and we won.
The "Award of Courage" I received from the Ontario Chuckwagon Association and the standing ovation my driver and I received from the audience were both nice ... but certainly not nice enough for me to ever consider doing something so foolish again!